


Selfish is a Nasty Word for Preservation

by fondofthehowes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, The Dark Ritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28431564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fondofthehowes/pseuds/fondofthehowes
Summary: Tomorrow. Tomorrow they’ll fight this thing once and for all. Tomorrow she might be dead after driving the dagger sitting in her chambers into the Archdemon. That is, if she can hold Alistair back from doing it himself. Reckless thing he is—regardless of telling her he’ll be safe—she knows without a doubt he would throw himself into that fire for her.Can she even sleep next to him knowing he’s likely plotting the same thing she is?Pushing the door to her chambers open, a shadow casts from the fireplace, stretching into the gap. It isn’t shaped like Alistair. It’s shaped like—“Do not be alarmed, tis’ only I,” Morrigan says, turning her gaze from the fire. “I need to speak with you about something. Something important.”
Relationships: Female Cousland & Morrigan (Dragon Age), Morrigan & Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 8





	Selfish is a Nasty Word for Preservation

Dread sits in every slosh of Magnolia’s stomach as she walks back to her room for the night. How she managed to eat at all is beyond her, if not for the gentle urging of Wynne supplying her small pieces of bread and cups of water. Should she rid it all at once over the ledge outside, it may fare her better than being sick tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow they’ll fight this thing once and for all. Tomorrow she might be dead after driving the dagger sitting in her chambers into the Archdemon. That is, if she can hold Alistair back from doing it himself. Reckless thing he is—regardless of telling her he’ll be safe—she knows without a doubt he would throw himself into that fire for her. 

Can she even sleep next to him knowing he’s likely plotting the same thing she is? 

Pushing the door to her chambers open, a shadow casts from the fireplace, stretching into the gap. It isn’t shaped like Alistair. It’s shaped like—

“Do not be alarmed, tis’ only I,” Morrigan says, turning her gaze from the fire. “I need to speak with you about something. Something important.” 

Magnolia presses the door closed behind her, slowly so that the sound doesn’t echo down the hall. The last thing she needs is him coming after her for slamming a door a specific way. Against the metal of the handle, her hands begin to sweat. Morrigan never had the best timing, so why should tonight be any different?

“What is it? Hopefully, you’re not here to ask for my life as well. I already promised it to a giant darkspawn,” Magnolia says, voice weak of any drive. Saying it makes it real. Saying it makes it terrifying. 

“Actually, that is precisely what I want to talk to you about. You see, I have a plan. A loop for your hole,” Morrigan offers along with her hand in the air before once again tucking it back into her arm. 

“Morrigan, please get to the point? I’m exhausted."

“Then I shall. I know what happens when a Grey Warden kills an Archdemon,” Morrigan starts, ushering a hand to direct her away from the door. When she obliges, Morrigan continues, “I also know how to prevent the sacrifice, so that none must make it.” 

Her eyes are steady as she speaks, but there is still fear settled behind the yellow of the mage’s irises. Morrigan is afraid for them and that of itself is enough to tug at Magnolia’s stomach again. She can handle everyone else pacing nervously, but to see Morrigan this way means that what she has planned is as scary as it is necessary. 

“None?” Magnolia asks, but they both know she should’ve said someone’s name. “None at all?” 

Morrigan shakes her head slightly. “None. You see, there is a ritual that can be done. Should I conceive a child tonight with a warden, it will bear the taint. And so when the archdemon is slain, it will attach itself to them in your stead. The only thing I ask is that you do not come looking for me when I leave. It can be this simple.” 

Moisture pulls from Magnolia’s mouth all at once. The words swim in her head, circling like a fish in a bowl far too small, until she bangs against the glass again and again.  _ Ritual. Child. Leave.  _

“Will the child die?” Magnolia asks hoarsely, and reaches into the space between them blindly. Morrigan holds her gaze, but takes her hand, quickly wrapping it between her own. Her touch is cold, just as it always is, and it centers Magnolia before she again speaks. “What if you die?” 

Morrigan’s brows raise, not in genuine surprise for her friend’s concern, but rather the urgency in her tone. Magnolia knows she’s never sounded like this before in front of her. The only people who heard it before are now dead. She can’t keep that record up, or she may find herself joining them. 

Pulling Magnolia down against the rug, the two women sit against their heels, hands still tightly clasped. The roar of the fire is nothing compared to the heavy swish of blood in Magnolia’s ears, but she still leans in.  She can't miss a single word of how to make this happen. Whatever it is… it has to happen. 

“The child will not die. I will not die. No one will die,” Morrigan assures, squeezing her gently. “That is why I am offering it to you, but you must also realize who the child must belong to, and that he would have to accept the offer as well.” 

_ Alistair _ . 

“He has to.” 

The words come without a second thought and her stomach again lurches. How easy it was for her to decide that without even speaking to him. As if it was just sitting beneath her tongue waiting to fall out. 

“You must _ask_ him,” Morrigan says, stating an obvious that both of them know isn’t for her benefit. 

Magnolia shakes her head, slowly at first, but then harder, heavier, as it hangs to her chest. Her hands tremble along with her lip as she sucks in a slow breath. She can’t ask him. She must tell him. He has to do this. He  _ has to _ . 

How horrible does that make her? Would he tell her no then leave her for asking? Would she still lose him regardless? 

Another squeeze is given around her hands, but this time it isn’t for comfort. It’s for focus. 

“Magnolia...” Morrigan urges, sounding both unlike herself and a million miles away. 

A broken sob presses through stubborn teeth as Magnolia pulls her hands from Morrigan’s grasp. They do not leave the mage’s skin long, for they instead find purchase against her back not a moment later. Fingers pull what little fabric sits on her shoulders, tangled in knots around knuckles. 

Taking in another breath, Magnolia’s lips press against Morrigan’s shoulder like a prayer. One that cannot be found in any chant she’s ever read. It is short in its phrase, and desperate in delivery: _Thank you._

Arms slowly close around her with uncertainty that becomes solid once Magnolia pulls in another shaking breath. Warmed by fire and tears, they sit unmoved for another minute until her breathing again slows back to a steadier pace. It is still forced, pulled against wet feathers, but it’s enough. 

She doesn’t have much time. She has to go talk to him. 

Save him. 

“I'm sorry, you must think I’m selfish,” Magnolia finally murmurs with a laugh, but it is devoid of humor. It sounds hollow, bouncing around her lungs with the words as they settle. Drawing back against her knees, she wipes her hands against her eyes. 

Morrigan shakes her head and reaches out to brush away a tear she missed. “No, I don’t. ‘Selfish’ is a nasty word for ‘preservation’. You have given enough and fought to survive all this time. This desire is no different. Life is hard, my dear warden.” 

A beat of silence passes between them before Magnolia forces another deep breath in. When she exhales, she rocks back up onto her feet, straightening her shoulders with a slow and painful roll. An ache sits crooked in her body and she knows it will not leave until he hears him agree. Even then, it probably won't. 

“I won’t forget this, you know,” Magnolia says, reaching down to pull Morrigan up to her feet. The room feels different now when they once again look at each other as they did minutes ago. Heavy. “I know you wish to leave after all this, and I will not stop you, but should you or the child ever have any need—” 

“You promise yourself to me too often. We will not,” Morrigan assures, tucking a stray hair away against Magnolia’s head with a soft smile, “but I will keep it in mind, Magnolia. Now, you know what you must do.” 

Magnolia nods, pressing up onto her toes to wrap her arms around Morrigan a final time. There is finality in the way her arms fall to her side after she lets go in a way neither of them wants to speak. And when Magnolia leaves her chambers, it is the last time she sees both it, and Morrigan, for the night. 


End file.
